


Ancient Grudges and Hokey Religions

by Rest_at_the_Bonfire



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, One-Shot, Sorry Not Sorry, i will get back to the other thing i swear, i'm in so much trouble now, let us accept it with quiet grace and dignity, probably won't be, turns out it's not a one-shot after all, unless it isn't, we all knew this would happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest_at_the_Bonfire/pseuds/Rest_at_the_Bonfire
Summary: The Outer Rim is, generally speaking, where you go to lose yourself. Pick a backwater world and just disappear. Empire, Republic, doesn't matter. None of them really care about what goes on out there. A great place to go when you don't want to be found.Unless, of course, you're getting paid to go looking.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Entrapta (She-Ra), Catra & Entrapta (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 32





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> You ever have one of those ideas that you can't get out of your head until you write it down, so you write maybe a sentence and then hope that's enough, but then it ends up being a lot more than you thought it would be?
> 
> Yeah, uh, me neither.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entrapta makes a friend. Catra goes a-hunting.

If a ship that looked like _that_ had landed on any of the core worlds, the mechanic mused, it probably would have immediately been impounded and sold for scrap to ensure that the property values of the surrounding city blocks did not plummet. It looked like someone had bolted the cockpit of a TIE fighter onto the front end of a shipping container and strapped a hyperdrive engine to the top. How it managed to have any control once in atmosphere, he couldn’t figure.

But the question fascinated him.

The mechanic straightened up as a hatch on the side rolled up – rolled up, like a garage door, he marveled – and a short stairway lowered to the ground. He wiped his hands on a rag and adopted the general air of someone who knows his services are going to be needed and knows exactly how much that expertise is worth.

Not that he expected whoever was flying around in _that_ would have much in the way of cred to make it worth his while. Maybe enough for fuel.

Maybe enough for _some_ fuel, anyway.

First to emerge was a Twi’lek, her skin a vibrant purple, dressed in what looked to be a pair of tan overalls and a shirt that might have, at some point in the history of the galaxy, been white, but was now covered in grease stains and goodness knows what else. A welder’s mask was perched on her head, but currently was up so that her face was visible. She looked frazzled but enthusiastic.

Probably was working to keep the ship together right up to the ship landing, the mechanic thought.

Second out of the ship was – nope.

Nope.

Not gonna acknowledge this.

Not going to look at the red plate armor, of indeterminate make. Not plasteel, that’s for certain. Too much _heft_ to it. Certainly not going to observe the red helmet with a black visor shaped like a T – if T were a letter in the galactic alphabet – nor the black cloak flung over one shoulder. Not going to think about the long rifle slung over the shoulder, or the blaster pistol slung low on the hip.

He was definitely not going to acknowledge the tail, or the fact that the helmet had clearly been made to accommodate the ears, nope, not even a little bit.

He was so incredibly not acknowledging it that when the Twi’lek bounded up enthusiastically and nearly shouted “HI!” he almost fell over backwards.

“Ooh, sorry, was that too much? Maybe that was too much.” She stepped back with a look of mild concern. “I don’t have a lot of practice interacting with humans.”

“No, no it’s uh… nope.” The mechanic hastily composed himself. “It’s fine. What can I do for you?”

“Oh good!” She gave a sigh of relief. “If I couldn’t manage this, I’d have to ask _her_ to help me and,” she leaned in conspiratorially and said in a low voice, “She’s not really a people person.”

“Uh, nope, no need to bring her into this at all.” His eyes widened. “Not… at… all.”

She fished around in one of her pockets and brought out a tattered list. “What kind of spare parts do you have, and can I have them?” She scrunched up her face, as if she were trying to remember something important. “OH! And fuel, I guess. You’ve got fuel, right?”

The mechanic turned to look behind him at the large sign that proclaimed _Bow’s Gas and Repair_ and back at the Twi’lek. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got fuel, too.” He held out a hand. “Can I see your list?”

“Hm? What list?”

The mechanic raised an eyebrow. “The list you’ve got, the one with the parts you need?” He gave a friendly smile, relaxing a little as he watched the figure in red head out onto the main street. “I gotta know what I’m looking for, so I know what I have and, y’know, what it’ll cost ya.”

“Oh, right! Right.” She handed over the paper. “You wouldn’t believe how much I had to do just to get here.”

“No, I think I might,” the mechanic replied, looking past her at the ship before turning to the list. His eyebrows shot up at the list of components. “Some of this is uh, I don’t know if I have some of this. I don’t think anyone outside of maybe the Imperial military has some of this.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Although…”

“Is it too much? I tried to keep the list down to things I only absolutely needed.” The Twi’lek frowned.

“It’s not too much,” the mechanic hastily responded, “It’s just a lot. You looking to replace most of the ship?”

The Twi’lek beamed. “Not replace, _augment_. Redundant systems, improved efficiency, and maybe some _experimental configurations._ ” She appeared to be vibrating with excitement. “And all according to my own designs!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The mechanic could feel his heart rate increasing. “You built that ship yourself?”

“Sure did! The last one, well, I didn’t build it and it was a real problem and I guess technically isn’t really a ship anymore, but luckily we landed in kind of a – a ship graveyard and I put Darla together myself.” She practically _glowed_ with pride.

“Your ship’s name is _Darla_?”

“Well, technically I got the name from a salvaged bulkhead that apparently was in section D4-1LA of I think some kind of Imperial cruiser, but Darla is way easier to say, so it’s Darla.”

“Sure, that makes sense.” The mechanic shrugged. “As much sense as building a ship out of parts you found in a scrapyard that can make a hyperspace jump.” He paused. “It uh, it can do that, right? I saw the engine on top and kind of assumed.”

“Oh, good guess!” The Twi’lek sounded entirely sincere. “We made one jump anyway, but I need to make sure that the next one doesn’t almost tear the ship in half.” She gave a giggle that fell somewhere endearing and insane. “I spent a lot of time fixing the hull so we could survive re-entry.” A frown. “And then Ca—uh, my partner told me that I had to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart the next time or she’d make me space-walk to the nearest station.” She grinned brightly. “I don’t think she meant it, but I want it to work anyway.”

The mechanic made absolutely sure to ignore the partial name. “Well, like I said, some of these parts are really hard to find outside of a military supply line but if you’ve got the coin for it, I know some people who might be able to work around that. Happy to sell you what I’ve got on hand, though.”

“That’ll be fine!” The Twi’lek held out a hand to shake. “I think we’re on kind of a tight schedule so let’s stick with what you’ve got on hand for now. I’m Entrapta!”

The mechanic smiled in spite of himself and shook the proffered hand. “Bow. This is my shop. Uh, just out of curiosity, how tight of a schedule?”

Somewhere, in the distance, there was the faintest echo of blaster fire. Entrapta frowned and crossed her arms in annoyance. “Probably tighter than it was a few minutes ago.”

*

It was the armor, she told herself. That was why she was at the center of yet another bar fight. Nobody liked the armor. Sure, the right people _respected_ it, but nobody really _liked_ it. That was their problem, though, not hers. Her problem was currently about two and a half meters tall, covered in scales, and very intent on making sure that _she_ was no longer a problem for _him._

He had tried punching her first, which was a reaction that she could never quite understand. Did people not realize what she was wearing? It could stop blaster fire, vibroblades, you name it, it could probably stop it, and they always tried to _punch_ it. Never worked, never turned out well for them. Wasn’t very comfortable for her, either, but still, why always a punch? This lizard man – she couldn’t recall the proper name for his species at the moment, in the middle of a brawl, go figure – had caught on quicker, though, and elected to next grab and _throw_ her across the room. She was currently scrambling back to her feet, giving serious thought as to whether she really needed the extra creds for bringing him in alive.

“Tung, don’t make it worse than it already is,” she grunted as she dodged out of the way of his charge. “Some nice folks just want to talk to you about some money that you maybe took.” Tung, the hulking lizard man, recovered quickly and went low, trying to sweep her feet out from under her with his tail. She leapt over it with surprising grace for someone who’d just been tossed across a room and landed in a crouch, her teeth bared underneath her helmet. Tung reached out to grab her again, but she was ready this time and countered with an uppercut that landed right on the lizard man’s jaw. He staggered back in a daze.

The armored woman took the opportunity to press a button on the palm of her gloves. There was a distinct hum and the crackle of electricity as she swiftly pressed her advantage and landed another hit to Tung’s center of mass. He doubled over in pain and she wasted no time in bringing both of her hands down on the base of his skull with a loud _crack_. Tung Lashor, wanted for a string of robberies the next system over, went limp and fell to the floor like a bag of laundry. A hush fell over the denizens of the bar. She ignored them, went about binding the lizard man’s arms behind his back and, after a few moments’ consideration, wrapping a length of steel cable around his jaws. Last thing she needed was for him to wake up and try to take a bite out of her neck.

With a grunt, she stood back up, stretching her back as she did so. She turned to the bar and pointed at the bartender. “Hey, you got a maglev cart back there?” The bartender, a short, stout human, nodded. “Mind if I borrow it?” He shook his head. “Great, thanks.” She fished in one of her pockets and flipped him a coin. He caught it with practiced ease and turned to walk into the back to get the cart.

It was at this point that one of Lashor’s crew, a Rodian, shot the armored woman in the head. The blaster bolt made a distinct _ping_ as it splashed harmlessly off the armor plating. She didn’t even turn around, her gun clearing its holster and shooting behind her in one fluid motion. The Rodian fell back into his chair, a smoking hole in his chest. “I’d ask that nobody else try that,” she growled, her voice crackling slightly as it came out of the built-in speakers in the helmet.

There was silence, broken only by someone coughing in what sounded almost like embarrassment. The barkeeper emerged from the back, maglev cart in tow. He walked it over, glancing back at the dead Rodian. The woman in red grunted as she hauled the unconscious Tung Lashor onto the cart. “Thanks again,” she said to the barkeep and jerked her head over to the dead Rodian’s table. “I’m sure his friends will pay to cover the damage.” Her armored visage turned to regard the Twi’lek and Trandoshan who had been sitting with the Rodian. “Right?”

There was another explosion of sound and light, and the Trandoshan slumped onto the floor, two smoking holes in his forehead, his blaster clattering to the ground. The Twi’lek nodded vigorously. “We’ll uh, I mean I will be happy to.”

“Glad to hear it,” she muttered, pushing the maglev cart out the front door and turning down the street, heading in the direction of _Bow’s Gas and Repairs_. Hopefully Entrapta had gotten the carbon freezer working again. She was _not_ going to deal with a pissed off overgrown lizard during a hyperspace jump, especially not on a ship like Darla.

Not that there were, actually, any ships like Darla. Or named like Darla.

By the time she reached the service station they’d docked at, she could feel the sweat dripping down the fur on her back. Even with the cart, Tung Lashor was heavy and the bar was downhill from _Bow’s Gas and Repairs_. She turned into the station and pushed the cart towards her ship. “Entrapta, please tell me you fixed the carbon freezer,” she said aloud, assuming that the Twi’lek was within hearing.

Entrapta poked her head out of the hatch of the ship. “First thing I did! Well, maybe the only thing I did.” She frowned. “Wait, no, I replaced the broken power couplings and tested the shields and oh, fixed a problem in the hydraulics that I hadn’t caught earlier. Did you know we might have not had landing gear? Ha ha ha!” Her head disappeared back into the ship.

“Very reassuring to hear,” the woman drawled. “Care to help me with tall, scaly, and irritating?”

The head poked out again and looked down at the unconscious form. “Ooh, he’s big. I don’t know how much help I’d be but maybe Bow can help?”

“Who. Is. Bow.” There was a dangerous edge to the woman’s voice.

“That’s uh, that’s me, sorry,” a voice from inside the ship spoke. The woman’s tail twitched, showing her irritation. Someone she didn’t know was on her ship. She watched as a dark-skinned human emerged from within. “Not my uh, that is I don’t usually help with,” his eyes darted to the lizard man and back to the armored woman, “loading… cargo?” He rushed to continue, “But I’ll make an exception since uh, you’ve brought me a lot of business.”

Bow would have _sworn_ he could actually hear the woman’s eyes narrow through her helmet. He watched the helmet look up, then down, and heard a sigh. “Fine. Sure. You want head or tail?”

“Uh, whichever’s easier for you, I guess,” he muttered.

“I’ll take the head, then.” The two managed to get Tung Lashor off the cart and into the carbon freezer.

“Thanks,” the armored woman said.

“No problem, uh, Miss…?”

“Catra.” She looked him up and down. He seemed awfully fit for a mechanic, she thought. Maybe ex-military? She set the thought aside. Not important right now.

“Miss Catra, sure, no problem.” He began backing away, heading for the shop’s interior. “Well, I should uh, probably see if I can track down some of those parts you’re asking for, so uh.” He turned and walked briskly inside.

“Bye!” Entrapta called from inside the ship. She popped her head out again. “He’s very helpful,” she said to Catra.

“Mm. So how long until we can head out?”

“Well…” Entrapta scrunched her face up in the way that someone would if they knew they were about to make someone upset. “Bow says he can get some of the more specialized parts that I wanted to try out, but it will take a while to track them down. That, plus the installation and proper testing, diagnostics—”

“How. Long.” Catra’s voice was flat. She knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Probably a few days? Maybe five?” Entrapta grinned in spite of herself. “It’s gonna be so cool when it’s done, though!”

Catra sighed. Not as soon as she would have liked, but not as bad as she feared. Tung was freezer-fresh anyway, there wasn’t a real hurry. She stepped into the ship and was struck by a sudden thought. “So, how much is all of this going to cost us, anyway?”

Bow, digging through his stockroom, two doors and a ship’s hull away, still snapped his head up as he heard Catra roar, “HOW MUCH?”


	2. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bow makes a call. Catra broods. Entrapta... well, Entrapta is Entrapta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guess we're doing this now.

Bow assumed that he had some time before his two clients had sorted out the misunderstanding over the repair bill and took the opportunity to go to the back wall of the stock room. He ran his fingers behind one of the shelving units until they hit a small button. He gave a satisfied grunt and tapped it.

There was a quiet hiss and a puff of air as a hatch popped open on the floor next to him. He descended a ladder, pulling the hatch shut behind him as he went. Fluorescent lights, alerted by his movement, flickered dully to life with a quiet hum. He looked around at the covert workshop and smiled faintly. His eyes passed over a fold-out blaster, a disassembled rifle, and a bowcaster – his personal favorite. They stopped for a moment on a small photograph, before he shook his head. This wasn’t the time.

Finally, he found what he was looking for – a compact communicator, quantum entangled. He picked it up and thumbed the transmitter in a pre-determined pattern, then waited. “Come on, come on,” he muttered. “I don’t have all day.”

“Urgh, d’you have any idea what time it is?” The voice on the other end was female, groggy, and very much annoyed.

“No, I don’t, because I’m on a completely different planet,” Bow replied. “Got a special order in, wondered if you two were still in the business of acquisitions.”

“Oh, stars, don’t say it too loud.” The female voice grumbled. “You know how he gets about these things.”

A male voice that sounded much more awake cut in. “Darling, are those the dulcet tones of my good friend Bow, offering us a chance for…”

“Noooo….” The female voice moaned in resignation.

“ADVENTURE!?”

Bow smiled, even though the other side couldn’t see it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

There was a long, drawn out sigh from the other end before the female voice spoke up again, “Sure, fine. Send us what you need, we’ll let you know how long it’ll take to get.”

“Knew I could count on you,” Bow replied. He fidgeted with the communicator for a few moments before asking, “Have you heard any news about – “

“No, I’m sorry, Bow. We haven’t, still looking.” The voice had a sympathetic tone. “I promise, if we hear anything…”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mer.” Bow disconnected the transmission and leaned against the bench, head down.

He did not go back upstairs for some time.

*

Catra sat in the pilot’s seat of her currently non-functional ship and tried to keep herself calm. She did not enjoy being in any one place for longer than she could help, well aware that her armor made her a target in certain circles. Catra preferred being a moving target to a stationary one. Staying still was for the dead, and she was not. Catra was not afraid of anyone who would knowingly seek out a fight with a Mandalorian, but she saw no reason to make it easy for them. Those fights were not paying work, merely an occupational hazard. Catra was good at fighting, would even consider saying that she enjoyed it, but she generally did not seek it out.

She stared out of the window. There wasn’t much of a view; she had a great view of Bow’s store but couldn’t really see inside. She could look up, sort of, and see the night sky above, but it was an overcast night, and the sky was therefore uninteresting. Catra leaned back with a sigh, listening to the occasional sounds of tinkering and electrical discharge that told her Entrapta was hard at work either repairing or further destroying the ship.

Entrapta. The Twi’lek was brilliant, of that there was no doubt, but she tended to get carried away when it came to Darla, carried away in the way that meant that Catra would be lucky to profit at all from Tung Lashor’s bounty. Not that Catra could stay mad at her for very long. She and Entrapta, they looked out for each other. Catra hadn’t been big into the idea of having a crewmate, but after Ord Mantell, well. Entrapta had saved her life, and Catra returned the favor. She trusted Entrapta, and Catra could count the number of people outside of the Clan that she trusted on one hand – one finger, really.

Maybe on two fingers, but – no. She wasn’t going to think about that again. Ancient history.

She felt the beginnings of a headache. She always got a headache when she thought about – about her past. Catra shook her head to banish the thought from her mind. Her life before the Clan was irrelevant. They saved her, protected her, gave her a new purpose after she’d lost – well, after she’d lost. Catra felt herself teetering on the precipice of a terrible remembering, tried to turn her thoughts away from the past and back towards her present, planet-bound situation.

At least she’d be bringing the lizard man in alive; turns out she needed the extra credits after all. She idly wondered whether him being cold-blooded meant that he would be more adversely affected by the carbon freezing process, but decided that in the end, it didn’t matter. She was bringing him in alive, the bounty didn’t say how functional he had to be when she got him there.

Catra yawned, her head drooping forward. When was the last time she had slept? Had to have been sometime before their nearly disastrous lightspeed jump, there was no way that anyone could have slept through their careening journey through hyperspace. _You should always sleep when you can, no telling when you’ll have the opportunity again,_ the voice of her mentor floated through her mind. Catra decided to take the advice and let herself drift off to sleep.

*

Entrapta loved machines. She loved putting them together, and taking them apart, and putting them back together so that they worked even better than before. There was no mechanical puzzle she would not solve, no engineering design that she could not improve upon. She knew that her enthusiasm for technology that most sentient beings took for granted was usually misunderstood by those around her, but she also didn’t care what they thought. That’s why she liked Catra. Catra didn’t care what they thought, either. Catra just cared that Entrapta could do things that nobody else could, and Entrapta cared that Catra treated her like she was normal. When she was on Darla, Entrapta was free to be herself, so long as she didn’t try to dismantle the hyperdrive mid-jump – which, of course, Entrapta would never do. Maybe take apart the navi-computer and put it back together, but not the actual drive.

She stood up from where she had been welding and looked around. The ship interior was looking much more like a proper ship interior, which is to say that the number of hanging cables and sparking wires had been reduced to nearly none. Entrapta realized that she had done all that she could do for now, and so she left the ship to go looking for Bow. Maybe he had been able to find more of the items on her list.

Ooh, or maybe she could make her own out of whatever else he happened to have in the shop! She might even be able to save Catra a few credits along the way. She scampered – Entrapta had two ways of moving, one was skipping and the other scampering – to the store and burst through the doors with a “Hey Bow!”

Bow was coming out of the storage room and visibly startled when she spoke. “Whoa! Oh, hey Entrapta.”

“Oh! You remembered my name!” Entrapta looked pleased.

“Well, you do make an impression,” Bow chuckled. “I only just got confirmation that I can source your more uh, esoteric requests, so it’s still going to be a couple of days before I’ve got the parts, assuming that my source comes through.”

“Oh,” Entrapta replied. “That’s not why I’m here.” She paused for a beat, “Do they not come through often?”

*

“You’re not authorized to be in this area!” shouted a stormtrooper, pointing his rifle at a gentleman with an impeccably groomed moustache. The gentleman twirled – no, not turned, absolutely not turned, he _twirled_ – and his eyes widened.

“Ha HAH!” He dropped to one knee and fired off a shot from a blaster pistol concealed in his voluminous coat. The stormtrooper dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. “Mermista, darling, I think it’s time for us to go!”

“What happened to the plan, Sea Hawk?” a voice crackled over his communicator.

“It lacked style, panache, in short – ADVENTURE!” He sprinted towards the open docking bay doors; a haversack slung over his shoulder. Behind him, the sounds of pursuit grew louder as an alarm began to wail.

“I cannot _believe_ I'm in love with you,” the voice replied with a sigh. “One minute until extraction.”

“Ah, going for the dramatic rescue, I see. I cannot help but approve!” He dove behind a pile of crates as blaster fire began to streak past him. “I shall wait for you with bated breath, my darling!” He could feel the heat of the blaster fire as the stormtroopers began to zero in on his location. He popped up to fire off a few shots of his own before dropping back down. “Ah, jewel of my heart, if you could perhaps hurry? These troopers are most persistent.”

There was a roar of engines as a YT-2400 freighter dropped from the sky and flipped, engines facing the docking bay. A ramp lowered and there she was, green hair blowing in the wash of the engines, a massive repeater rifle in her hands. She fired over Sea Hawk’s head, tearing into the stormtroopers with bolts of boiling blue plasma.

Sea Hawk had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

He dove the final distance onto the ramp, as Mermista slammed her hand over the emergency seal. The hatch snapped shut behind him and the ship began to raise into the air. She ran back into the cockpit and gunned the engines as Sea Hawk scrambled to his feet to join her. He sank into the copilot’s chair with a sigh of relief. “Ah, a perfectly executed plan as always.”

Mermista whirled to face him, her dark eyes blazing. “That’s all you have to say for yourself, a perfectly executed plan? You almost got killed!” Without looking away from Sea Hawk, she entered the predetermined course for hyperspace and pulled the throttle down. She grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him bodily up from his seat as the ship launched itself past the speed of light. Her eyes were not so much blazing anymore as they were _smouldering._ “You absolutely reckless idiot.” She pulled him in and fiercely kissed him with – were someone to ask Sea Hawk to describe it – the blazing intensity of a thousand suns.

Time passed. She finally released him and the two sat, catching their breath. “Okay,” Mermista finally managed, her eyes still fiery. “I am going to confirm this course is set properly, and then I am going to drag you into the cargo hold and tear all of the clothes off of your body.”

Sea Hawk’s eyes widened. “Ah, Mermista, we do have a perfectly good cabin that we could retire to, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mermista’s voice had dropped to a low growl. “Maybe I’m just looking for _adventure_.”

*

Bow considered Entrapta’s question for a few moments before replying, “Nah, they’ve never let me down before.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear! Anyway, I was wondering…” Entrapta began wandering towards the stock room, chatting with Bow about the various different configurations that she wanted to try and the plans she had to attempt to make the best use of what Bow already had on hand. Bow sighed at first, but was soon caught up in her enthusiasm, and the two continued to bounce ideas off of one another long into the evening.

*

A cloaked figure wandered through a windswept plain, hands extended and brushing against the tips of the taller blades of grass. She walked with no destination in mind, content to wander back and forth in an intricate dance that only she knew. She was looking for something, although she was not yet certain what it was that she sought.

She would know it when she saw it.

The sky overhead was a dark cerulean, smeared with gray clouds that the wind chased across the horizon. The wind whipped her cloak about, revealing the simple white tunic and leggings that she wore underneath. She carried no weapon as she wandered, head turning slightly back and forth as she continued to look.

After an hour of wandering, she finally came to a halt and knelt down. There, before her, was what she had been looking for: a perfect circle of stone laid flat on the ground, covered in runes. She reached out and touched it reverently, then stepped forward and sat down in the center of it, legs crossed.

She closed her eyes, stilled her body, bowed her head, and let her mind wander. The runes on the stone began to glow faintly, though she did not notice. The wind intensified around her but seemed to avoid the stone. She was in an oasis, the air perfectly still.

Sweat began to bead on her forehead as her brow furrowed in concentration. She felt her heartrate increase, her breath coming in short gasps as she struggled with some unseen force. Around her, the wind howled.

Suddenly, her head snapped up. The hood of her cloak fell back, revealing long, golden hair. The woman’s eyes flew open; a pair of blazing, steel-blue eyes, staring directly at…

“Catra.”

Catra jerked awake and fell out of her chair. She was panting, sweaty, like she’d just run a marathon. She lay on the deck of the ship, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of her dream.

It couldn’t be.

Catra groaned inwardly. She needed to get off of this planet. Keep moving, onto the next job, the next hunt. Bring honor to her Clan and stay one step ahead of her memories and the one name that she could never bring herself to say. 

Adora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprising exactly nobody on this Good Earth, I couldn't manage to leave this one alone for very long. There's a whole lot of space to play in here, and my greatest challenge is going to be having enough patience to not rush into things and actually try pacing this story out properly.
> 
> I dunno, we'll see. Thank you as always for reading, and feel free to tell me all of the things that I did wrong in the comments, otherwise I shall assume this is work is a flawless masterpiece.
> 
> I spent a good hour on Wookieepedia trying to decide what manner of alien to make Mermista and Sea Hawk, but then I thought... nah. Nothing's going to top Twi'lek Entrapta anyway.


	3. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfamiliar ceiling, a mechanic's thoughts, and a decision to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little violence in this one. Not a super long fight (for reasons that you'll hopefully see) and not incredibly descriptive, but there's a little bit of a body count in this one towards the end so, y'know, don't be too surprised. Also some uh, bifurcation.
> 
> And a decapitation.

She was first aware that she was on her back, arms spread wide, on a floor. She wiggled her fingers experimentally, and decided that the floor was either incredibly dusty, or made of dirt.

Perhaps it was just the ground, then.

The second awareness was one of a burning in her throat. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth; she was thirsty. She opened and closed her mouth slowly, her lips peeling apart. She felt an urge to cough, suppressed it. She needed a drink.

This led to the third and final awareness, which was that it was not dark – her eyes were closed. She slowly cracked an eye to examine her surroundings. A thatched ceiling, unfamiliar. No light but what came through a window on the outside. Definitely a dirt floor.

A thought slowly moved through her mind: _how long have I been laying here?_ This was followed immediately by a second thought: _how much longer can I stay here before I have to move?_ Her head lolled to one side and she was confronted by the sight of some kind of fenced area next to her. An animal pen, perhaps? A large hog-like creature wandered into view, snuffling at the ground. Was she in a barn, then?

She turned her mind towards an attempted reconstruction of the previous night’s activities. There had been a bar, that much was certain. And drinks, and a pleasant burning sensation in her throat, and more drinks, and then what she would have sworn up and down was friendly conversation, but apparently her view was not shared by the other denizens.

A fistfight! _Ah_ , she thought, _that explains the headache._ She brought a hand up to inspect her face, feeling for the bumps and bruises she was sure were there. Her search was rewarded by the tacky feeling of drying blood on her forehead and the distinct feeling of a swollen eye.

 _You should see the other guy_ , a voice in her head chirped. She turned her mind back to the evening. After the fight – pretty sure she won – she remembered running from someone. A sore loser, most likely. The sounds of gunfire and a stumbling escape into a barn.

She looked down at her dirty grey tunic and was surprised to find that it was redder than she remembered and there was a hole in it that she could have sworn wasn’t there before. She reached down and stuck her finger in the hole and winced.

Not just her shirt, she decided. Someone had shot her. Inconvenient. A blaster bolt, she figured since she’d clearly not bled out overnight. Blaster fire was convenient that way, cauterizing the wound for her. Unfortunately, it meant that she’d have to leave town now. When the locals started shooting, it was time to move on.

She must have passed out from the pain, and whoever had shot her hadn’t been _that_ angry, or they’d have probably come to finish the job. Then there was a dream, or at least she thought there had been a dream. Something about a field, and a stone, and a pair of mismatched eyes, one a brilliant amber and the other a dazzling sapphire.

She let herself fall back to the ground with a thud and immediately regretted her decision as pain lanced through her abdomen from the impact. She groaned. Definitely time to move on. Or time to just stay where she was and not move for a while. It was a tempting thought, and she took a few moments to wrestle with the choice.

The sound of heavy footfalls appeared to make the decision for her. She rolled to her stomach and scrambled to her feet, biting off a cry of pain before it could give her away. She looked around at the ground and saw that she had managed to at least flee with her backpack and cloak. She threw the cloak around her shoulders, grabbed the pack off of the ground, and headed in the opposite direction of the footsteps. She slipped out of a side door and was gone.

*

Entrapta awoke in unfamiliar territory. She was laying on a workbench, but it wasn’t _her_ workbench. It was, however, surprisingly comfortable and warm. Someone had covered her with a blanket at some point, she guessed. She rolled off the bench and onto her feet and looked around. Ah, she was in Bow’s shop. The workbench was his! The half-built power couplings were probably hers, though. She was trying to double their maximum threshold so that they’d stand up to the frankly dangerous amount of energy she planned on passing through them and must have drifted off while contemplating a solution.

That happened, sometimes, because Entrapta often forgot to sleep.

She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back to rid herself of the soreness that comes from sleeping on workbenches, and wondered if it had been Bow who had given her the blanket. It did not seem like a very Catra thing to do, she reasoned, and Bow seemed to be a helpful sort of person. He liked machines, and Entrapta liked machines, and so she was inclined to like Bow as well.

Entrapta made her way out of the shop and headed towards her ship, half-completed couplings slung over her shoulder. She could finish the modifications there. She could also check on Catra while she was at it because Entrapta worried about Catra sometimes. Catra often told her that all she needed in life was the Clan and the hunt. Entrapta knew that to be an absolute lie, but she did not ever challenge Catra on the point. She was perceptive enough to know something was missing, and wise enough to know that she would not be able to solve the problem for Catra. Regardless, she was determined to stay with Catra and help her in whatever way she was able. Luckily, Catra mostly appeared to just need someone to fix stuff, and Entrapta was extremely good at fixing stuff.

She found Catra pacing back and forth inside Darla. Entrapta decided that Catra looked agitated, from the way she was pacing with a nervous energy to the way that her tail was thrashing back and forth behind her. The red helmet, of course, gave nothing away as to her expression. Entrapta knew by this time that the best thing that she could do was distract Catra with something else.

“Hey, Catra!” Catra stopped her pacing and looked towards Entrapta, who continued, “I was talking with Bow earlier and he said that his contacts had managed to get what we were looking for. They should be arriving in the next day or so.” She smiled as she saw some of the tension drop out of Catra’s stance. Good.

“Finally,” Catra sighed. “We need to get off this rock and back on the hunt. Lizard’s not gonna keep forever.”

“Well certainly not forever, but theoretically he could be kept in hibernation for at least a galactic standard month before the risk of any permanent damage from the process.”

“Well, then perhaps I just want to get him off my ship and move on to the next job.” Catra shook her head. Of course Entrapta would take her words literally.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a ship approaching. Catra poked her head out of the hatch to try and get a glimpse of whatever it was flying overhead. She caught sight of Bow jogging out of his shop. “Hey, Catra! Seems like you’re in luck, my contacts are running ahead of schedule.” He stopped. “I’m heading down to the docking bay to meet them; you’re welcome to come along if you’d like a change in scenery.”

Catra paused, considering her options. On the one hand, she had no real interest in meeting anyone that she did not need to meet. On the other, she was tired of staying in one place and it might be helpful for her to make a connection with someone who was able to procure military-grade hardware with such short notice. Her boredom and the prospect of such a contact won out, and she gave a shrug. “Sure, let’s go see who these friends of yours are.”

*

The previous evening had been a mistake, she knew. She shouldn’t have let her guard down, shouldn’t have allowed herself to relax – shouldn’t have had that much to drink, a dull headache reminded her. She definitely shouldn’t have gotten into a fight. She had managed to drink some water, eat an emergency ration bar that she’d been carrying around, but the blaster burn on her torso still hurt.

More importantly, she had been _noticed_. Word must have gotten out about the previous evening, and some conclusions must have been drawn, and that was how she now found herself walking towards the outskirts of town being pursued by a group of about six rough-looking locals. She’d ignored them when they’d started following her, trying to play for time as she drew them out of the town center. She didn’t need an entire audience for what was probably going to happen next.

They were a motely crew, she thought. A Rodian, two Trandoshans, a Weequay, and a couple humans, all armed with a hodgepodge of weaponry one might expect to find in a frontier town. Once she judged herself to be far enough from the town, she slowed to a halt and turned to regard the group. They fanned out and surrounded her, and she nearly rolled her eyes at the predictability of it all. She kept her hood up and rolled her shoulders, feeling her muscles loosen. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said. “Was there something you needed?”

One of the humans, a scruffy-looking large fellow who was holding some kind of stun baton, spoke up. “Matter of fact, we’re here on behalf of our friend, Griff.” The woman nodded and gave a gesture that conveyed, _please continue_. The man spoke again, “See, you roughed our friend Griff up pretty bad last night, and well, he’s our friend.”

“Yes, you mentioned.” The woman let her arms fall to her sides and slowly exhaled. “Please extend my heartfelt apologies for the misunderstanding last evening to your friend, once he wakes up.”

“Sure, sure,” the Rodian spoke up now. “Only, well, we got to talking after you ran off. See, I thought you seemed kinda familiar.” He gave a weird chuckle. “And that didn’t make sense, because you’d only just shown up.” He tapped his head, “but I’ve got a real good memory for faces.”

“Perhaps I just have one of those faces,” the woman replied.

“Nah, see, it took me a little while to remember where I’d seen you, but then it hit me.” The Rodian’s (weird little) mouth curled into what probably passed for a smile to his species. “Saw this bounty notice hanging in the old Imperial outpost, pretty good payout for bringing in some supposed Jedi who looks an awful lot like you.” He shrugged and gestured with his blaster pistol. “Figured if we rounded you up, maybe that reward money would go towards easing ol’ Griff’s discomfort.”

The woman’s face hardened; her mouth set into a thin line. “Careful, now. Throwing around accusations like that could get someone into trouble. I’m no Jedi.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” the second man, tall and thin, spoke up. “We can still get that reward money, and we don’t have to fight a Jedi to do it.” The group laughed together at the joke. “Now, you can come quietly, or you can come in pieces.” He hefted an axe meaningfully.

“I am going to ignore the fact that you’ve accused me of being a Jedi and the fact that you’re harassing me right now.” The woman shrugged, and her cloak fluttered to the ground, revealing her golden hair and simple, homespun clothing. Hanging from the belt around her waist was a short metal cylinder. “You all can walk away, and we’ll forget this little misunderstanding.”

“How generous,” the Rodian chirped. “You’ll forgive us if we don’t take you up on your offer.” He nodded to his companions, and they began to slowly advance, closing the circle tighter around her.

The woman closed her eyes and sighed, and it was not a sigh of frustration, or of relief, or even of exhaustion, though she was tired. It was a sigh of pure joy.

_Remember, Adora, one who truly masters the art of the sword is one who strikes without thought of action._

Her master’s words. Mara’s words. In one fluid movement she had ignited her lightsaber with a brilliant golden flash and separated the Rodian’s head from his body. Before his head had hit the ground, she had dropped to a crouch and cut the two Trandoshans off at the waist. She pirouetted neatly and sliced the Weequay neatly in two, longways, before the remaining humans even registered what had happened.

The Rodian’s head hit the ground with a wet thud and at the sound she flipped backwards, landing behind the two humans who were dead before they even had time to turn around. Adora’s lightsaber was extinguished and back on her hip before the last body hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. She stepped over the corpses and retrieved her cloak and haversack. As the adrenaline slowly bled from her system, Adora grimaced.

So much for staying on this planet. If she were being recognized by locals, it wasn’t going to be long before word got out and she’d be dealing with more than just whatever passed for local muscle around these parts. Time to move on.

Adora began to walk again, alone. It was best that she remained alone. She could not allow herself to become attached again. Not after what happened the last time. She had lost her master, lost her home, and lost her best friend. It had nearly broken her, sent her down a dark and self-destructive path. No, better to continue to wander, to lose herself in the Outer Rim.

She would not fall to the Dark Side.

Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we jump between planets again in this chapter and man I'm going to have to start putting names on these planets to keep things straight, aren't I? We'll see how long I can push it.
> 
> Hey, Adora...
> 
> Seek Heaven through Violence, girl.


	4. Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which parts are exchanged and pie is procured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yeah, we're back. We're back, and we didn't even take a detour to a completely unrelated noir-adjacent fic that has been slowly brewing in my brain.
> 
> Nope, we're here instead. Star Wars and She-Ra, baby!

Catra had a problem. The problem was roughly six feet tall with roguish charm – that very much did not work on Catra, but apparently worked on some people – and currently owner of the specialty parts that Entrapta had asked Bow to provide. The problem was currently hiding behind Mermista and admonishing Bow about the company that he was keeping.

“Did you not know that she is the very bounty hunter that delivered me to those gangsters on Nar Shaddaa? Into the very clutches of my enemies!”

Catra shrugged. “It was the job. And they clearly didn’t do a good job of keeping you around.” She turned to Bow. “Let’s just get this over with and go our separate ways.”

“Okay, Sea Hawk, I’m sure we can all be professional about this, right?” Bow started walking up the boarding ramp and beckoned Catra to follow.

“Oh no, she is not coming on my ship,” Mermista stated flatly, glaring at Catra. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get him back from the Hutts?”

“No, and I don’t particularly care to know.” Catra was getting annoyed. Sometimes the galaxy didn’t feel nearly as big as it should. “Nobody’s paying me to bring him back, so there’s no problem.” She leaned against one of the hydraulic arms that raised and lowered the ramp. “I’ll stay down here if it makes you feel better.”

“It does!” Sea Hawk shouted over his shoulder as he walked back into the depths of the ship, Mermista and Bow following. Bow visibly relaxed at Catra’s offer to remain outside; he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to stop Mermista if she decided to start a fight.

“So uh, hope it wasn’t too much trouble getting these parts,” he began, hoping to take their minds off of their history with Catra. Sea Hawk gave a booming laugh.

“Ah, no trouble at all! Only the clarion call of ADVENTURE!”

“Would have been less trouble if you’d stuck to the plan,” Mermista grumbled. Sea Hawk gave her his most winning smile.

“I was able to improvise because I knew that you had my back, my sensual siren of the stars.” Mermista turned away to hide a smile, her face turning a darker shade. Sea Hawk continued, “Besides, any chance to cause trouble for our Imperial interlopers is worth taking!” Bow raised an eyebrow and glanced at Mermista before turning back to Sea Hawk.

“Imperials, huh? So, these parts fell off the back of a supply truck?”

“Nothing so banal as that, my dear fellow. Where’s the adventure in that? No, good sir Bow, I struck at the very heart of an Imperial facility! What once was for a TIE fighter is now for you.” He struck a pose. “We go above and beyond for our favorite customer!” Mermista groaned. Bow smiled at Sea Hawk, though his brow wrinkled with concern.

“The Empire’s not going to uh, come looking for this stuff, are they?”

“Uh, we’re _professionals_ , Bow,” Mermista replied. “I made sure that everything was clean while we were in transit. No tracking devices, no serial numbers.” She crossed her arms. “I’m almost offended you asked.”

“Hey, look, you saw who these parts are for.” Bow held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Last thing I need is an angry Mandalorian coming back to me because their ship got impounded for having stolen tech.” His hand drifted back to rub his neck. “Speaking of, if I’d known your uh, history I wouldn’t have put you in this position.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sea Hawk laughed. “You couldn’t have known anyway, and as much as it pains me to agree with my former jailer, it was never anything personal.” He hefted a large duffel bag. “And this was far too much fun getting for me to stay angry.”

“You and I have very different ideas about what fun means,” Bow chuckled, taking the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks again, you two,” he called over his shoulder, heading down the boarding ramp.

“Keep paying us, we’ll keep delivering the goods,” Mermista replied with a smirk. Her face softened. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your lady friend, as well.” Bow stopped halfway down the ramp and turned his head, a bittersweet expression on his face.

“Thanks, Mer.”

Catra had moved away from the ship and was sitting on a cargo container when Bow stepped off the ship. She jumped down and walked towards him. “So, everything set?”

“Yeah,” Bow responded, handing her the bag. “Job done.”

“Great.” Catra hefted the bag across her shoulder and began walking back to the repair shop. Bow followed after her, deep in thought. Finally, he appeared to come to a decision and spoke up.

“Hey, Catra?”

Catra did not stop walking, nor turn her head. “What is it, more complications?”

“No, no,” Bow shook his head as he increased his pace so that he was walking next to her. “I was just wondering…”

“Spit it out,” Catra sighed, still not breaking stride.

“What exactly did Sea Hawk do to get on the wrong side of the Hutt Cartel?”

“Well, you know those giant pleasure barges they like to sail around on whatever planet they’re on?” Catra turned her head to look at Bow, who nodded. “Apparently Sea Hawk managed to set one on fire.”

“You mean he blew it up?” Bow’s eyes widened a little.

“No, I mean he set it on fire,” Catra responded. “Damndest thing, nobody could figure out how he managed it, but none of the fire suppression systems triggered and the whole thing just burned until it was a bare frame and an engine.” Bow gave a low whistle.

“That’s actually pretty impressive,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, Hutts didn’t see it that way, so they contacted the Guild and the Guild contacted me and I was paid pretty well for hauling him back to Nar Shaddaa to chat with the Hutts.” She shrugged. “End of story. Not my most impressive work, Sea Hawk isn’t exactly dangerous.”

“Not unless you’re a ship, I guess.”

Catra was glad that nobody could see the grin on her face underneath her helmet. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

*

Adora needed a mask. Apparently, her encounter with the local would-be bounty hunters had cause something of a stir, and now there were pictures of her face just about everywhere. She had dealt with two more groups of self-appointed militia since then, and the body count was getting high enough that whoever passed for the local government might be inclined to reach out to the Imperial governor, who would probably be very interested in reports of a potential Jedi on their planet.

What Adora really needed was a way off-planet, but a mask would at least buy her some time while she worked on that particular problem. If nothing else, it would let her walk down a street without being immediately surrounded by a group of whatever passed for local muscle with more greed than brains. Fortunately for her, there was some kind of dust storm sweeping across the plains at the moment, so masks were currently commonplace and wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. Still, she had been spending most days hiding out in a variety of exciting, abandoned dwelling places, run-down factories, and at least one other occasion an old barn, and moved about during the night.

That was how she found herself in what appeared to be some kind of old junk shop, rummaging around for an older generation of rebreather that would obscure her face enough that she could move around with a little more freedom. She had not seen the shop owner yet and was hoping that she could keep the interaction to a minimum. It would be just her luck to be recognized by the person she was buying the mask from.

“Ah, I didn’t see you there.” Adora startled briefly before turning to see the source of the voice: a short, stout old woman with wild grey hair and giant glasses, dressed in light purple robes and a shawl. “Come, come, what are you here for?”

“Oh! Uh, just a rebreather, y’know… the dust storm and all.” Adora gestured towards the door. The old woman nodded, clucking her tongue.

“You’ve come to the right place, dearie. I know just the thing, eh?” She looked around the shop with an air of confusion. “Or maybe I know the thing, but not where it is.” She shuffled over to a box and began rummaging through it. “Pah, no, not here, not there.” She moved onto a second box and repeated the process, pulling things out and inspecting them before putting them back and muttering to herself again. Adora coughed politely.

“Do you need some help?”

The old woman’s head shot up and she smiled. “Ah, of course. Help! Help will know where it is.” She pointed a finger at Adora. “You wait here, miss Adora, and maybe cover your face. Too pretty to go unseen, yes?” Adora opened and closed her mouth in shock, trying and failing to come up with a response. The old woman shook her head with a smile. “Little girl, you are not a fish. Stop acting like one!” She shuffled – or was it skipped? The woman seemed incredibly spry for her apparent age – into the back of the shop, shouting, “Glimmer! Glimmer, help is here.”

“Razz? What are you talking about?” A younger voice responded.

“No questions, come along now!” The old woman – Razz, Adora guessed – returned from the back followed by a young woman with hair that seemed to sparkle and turned from pink to purple, seemingly on a whim. She smiled as she noticed Adora, still looking shocked in the corner.

“Oh, hello.”

“You see?” Razz cackled. “Help is here!” She pointed a bony finger at Glimmer. “You are the help!”

Adora smiled back at the young woman – Glimmer? – and gave a small wave. “Is she always like this?”

Glimmer smiled. “Has been for as long as I’ve known her. So, what am I helping with?”

“Our friend Adora here needs a mask! Too many people are noticing her pretty face and it is tiresome,” Razz replied. “I say to her ‘wait here, wait here, help will know where the mask is.” Glimmer shot a quizzical look at Adora.

“Uh, can you clarify what I’m actually looking for?”

Adora managed to control her reaction to this old woman using her name _again_ long enough to respond, “I’m just looking for a rebreather to filter the dust out from the storm and _how do you know my name?”_ Well, she almost managed to control her reaction.

Razz waved the question away, replying “Pah! Your name is as plain as anything, written right on your face. Just like this one’s,” she jerked a thumb back at Glimmer. “Only this one, hah, she could not see her name until I told it to her!”

“It’s a long story,” Glimmer said hurriedly, turning away to rummage through yet another box overflowing with miscellaneous junk. “A rebreather, right?”

“Yeah, I was hoping to get one of those bigger models that covers the whole face, y’know?” Adora shrugged. “Allergies.”

Glimmer’s eyes narrowed, but she merely said, “Sure, I think we have one around here somewhere,” and continued digging. Adora stood uncomfortably in the corner watching as Razz’s eyes darted back and forth between her and Glimmer. Razz appeared to be muttering to herself as she did so, and eventually gave a decisive nod, as if she’d just concluded something important.

“All right, that settles it.” Adora and Glimmer both looked at Razz, who smiled beatifically. “You will stay with us, Miss Adora, until it is time to go.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adora began to say, but Razz cut her off.

“No, no, no need to worry. Nobody looking for Adora will find her if she is with Madame Razz. And Adora has an appointment to keep.”

Glimmer shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, she gets like this sometimes. You’re welcome to stay or go.” She cocked her head to one side. “Although you’re the first person she’s asked to stay since, well, me.”

“Yes, yes,” Razz continued, “Glimmer had to stay, she had to wait for the right time to leave. Otherwise, she wouldn’t remember anything!” She held up a half-mask rebreather triumphantly. “Ah! See, then, you helped after all.”

“But I didn’t –“ Glimmer began.

“Hush, girl! Come, come, it’s late and everyone is hungry. Madame Razz has made pie!” She walked into the back, taking the mask with her. “Hurry, Adora, before the pie gets cold!”

Glimmer turned to Adora, who was still trying to process everything that had just happened. “She’s not wrong, you know. It’s good pie.” Her face scrunched up, as if she were trying to remember something. “And Razz is… she’s got this way about her, you know? Makes you feel safe.” She shrugged and smiled fondly. “I’d have been lost without her.”

Adora was about to make her excuses and leave. She could always find a mask elsewhere, after all. There were other shops, she was sure of it. She almost managed to turn around and head out the door before the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck began to stand up. She suddenly felt a presence, old and kind and powerful, beckoning her to follow Razz. A peace she had not known in ages settled into her soul and she gave a sigh. “Yeah, there’s definitely something about her.” She smiled at Glimmer. “Well, if the pie is good, I suppose I can stay for a little while.”

“Of course you can stay!” Razz’s voice floated out from the back. “Your ship is not here yet. You must be patient! Patient and hungry. For pie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly every ongoing story I tell gives me trouble somewhere around chapter three. Or four? I guess this is chapter four. Point is, this one started rocky for me and went through a pretty extensive rewrite and then Madame Razz just SHOWED UP and I did not intend for her to be in this story at all but, well, she's very persuasive, you know? Made a good case for herself.
> 
> Look at this, we've found Glimmer! Well, someone's found her, anyway. What's been keeping her, I wonder?
> 
> Your comments and kudos drive the burning breath of life within me. Exhale! Exult!
> 
> When we come back next time, maybe space travel? SPACE TRAVEL! And a couple new characters that have nothing to do with She-Ra or Star Wars but whom I am deeply fond of will perhaps make an appearance. Fret not, dear reader, they shall integrate into this wild weave with nary a ripple.
> 
> But seriously, though, gun to my head I cannot explain how Razz found her way into this story. I think she fits in rather nicely, no?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end, for now. It's kind of a moving goalpost, I like to keep myself on my toes. Can't promise any kind of consistent updates, or even if there will be updates. This was just.. real stuck in my head, couldn't get rid of it. So here we are.
> 
> *narrows eyes* Huh. Kinda cool, I think.
> 
> Hey, did you like this? Did I mess something up? Is this the exact nonsense you were looking for? Leave a comment and I will absolutely reply, because I can't help myself.


End file.
